Exile
by skygawker
Summary: Two years into the Clone Wars, Padme Amidala and Chancellor Palpatine are dead, and Anakin Skywalker is sent into exile as punishment for actions he took in the heat of his grief and anger. Eventual Anakin/Obi-Wan.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

Twenty-two-year-old Anakin Skywalker stood motionless atop a podium in the Grand Convocation Chamber of the Senate. He was surrounded by nearly a dozen guards. It was a useless gesture; even handcuffed and stripped of his lightsaber as he was, he knew he could have taken them all out if he wanted to.

He didn't. He didn't want much of anything, except perhaps that the Senate stop deliberating and announce their decision. It wasn't as though the verdict was anything but a foregone conclusion.

It wasn't as though he didn't deserve what he knew he was about to get.

Mon Mothma, newly elected Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, stepped forward. _Finally. _"Anakin Skywalker," rang her voice throughout the chamber, "by a unanimous vote, you are found _guilty _of treason and nine counts of murder in the first degree."

So the evidence against Palpatine hadn't been enough to drop the treason charge, then. Anakin continued to stare at the floor of his dais, but he didn't need his eyes to sense the emotions radiating from the other occupants of the room. He could _feel_ their accusatory stares, their satisfaction.

It didn't matter. There was only one Senator whose opinion he had ever cared about, and her life had been ripped away from her nearly two weeks ago.

"The traditional punishment for treason is the death penalty," Mon Mothma stated. Anakin closed his eyes, his breath quickening. "However, given the mitigating circumstances—your mental state at the time of the incident, and the situation surrounding the late Chancellor Palpatine that is still under investigation—it has been decided that you will receive a more lenient punishment."

_What?_ Anakin's head snapped up. Leniency? He didn't _want_ leniency; he wanted this all to be over with. With Padme torn from him, the death penalty would have been a kindness. And he _knew_ that half the galaxy had been clamoring for his execution; besides, with the Citadel still in the hands of the Separatists, it wasn't as though there was any prison that could hold him. Almost involuntarily, his eyes slid over to where Obi-Wan stood in the witness box next to the one survivor of his actions a fortnight ago, Bail Organa. It had likely been his former Master's testimony that had swayed them—though Obi-Wan's defense of him had produced a backlash among many in the Senate and public alike, he knew that there had been at least some who were still willing to listen to the famed Jedi Master. Obi-Wan turned his head slightly, meeting his eyes. Anakin's gaze dropped quickly back to the floor.

"You are hereby sentenced to banishment from the Republic," Mon Mothma continued. "You have twenty-four hours to get to non-Republic space and are, upon pain of death, forbidden from ever returning."

Numb with surprise, Anakin was barely aware of being dragged away by the guards. _Banishment. _Was it really supposed to be a kinder punishment, or had they decided that he deserved to rot in his misery more than he deserved a quick death?

They were soon met in the foyer by a small group of Jedi Masters, those who had been present at the trial. Obi-Wan stepped forward. "We'll take him from here," he told the guards, who acquiesced and stepped silently away. He turned towards Anakin and asked lightly, "You're not going to try to escape, are you?"

Anakin shook his head. There was so much he wanted to say to Obi-Wan in that moment. _Were you the one who convinced them to let me live? Did you defend me because you care, or because the Council didn't want to let the person who killed the Sith Lord for them die? Do you hate me, for what I did? Do you understand?_

_I'm sorry, Obi-Wan._

But he couldn't say any of it, not when they were surrounded by so many other Jedi, so he remained silent as Obi-Wan unlocked his cuffs and lead him out to the waiting speeder.

* * *

The ride back to the Temple was uncomfortable, to say the least. Obi-Wan was busy flying, but the other Jedi kept glancing warily at him, though none would look him straight in the eye. Perhaps they were torn between gratitude for bringing balance to the Force and fear, disgust even, for what else he had done. He couldn't tell.

"You may go collect your belongings," said Ki-Adi-Mundi once they had landed. "A ship will be prepared for you to take beyond the border." With that, he and the others departed, leaving Anakin alone with Obi-Wan.

Was this it? Was Obi-Wan staying behind to say goodbye to him? With Anakin in prison, they hadn't had the chance to talk since before the incident with Palpatine.

And now, they might not have it ever again.

A burst of panic blossomed in Anakin's chest, but his throat constricted and he was unable to find the words to express anything of what he felt.

"Go pack your things," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin's stomach dropped. Obi-Wan couldn't even bear to be _around _him. Then Obi-Wan continued, "There's something I need to discuss with the Council, but I'll come up and find you afterwards, before you leave. All right?"

The Council. Of course. The Council always came first for Obi-Wan, apparently even when they had so little time left. Anakin nodded mutely, and Obi-Wan turned and walked away without another word.

* * *

Collect his belongings. Jedi didn't even _have _belongings. Anakin looked around his quarters, feeling somewhat lost. Deciding what to bring would be easier if he could picture himself in exile, but he just...couldn't. Couldn't even begin to imagine what he might do with his life with Padme dead, with no family or friends or even the _Jedi_ to give him some sort of structure and direction.

He couldn't envision a future for himself, at all.

The datapads with starship blueprints scattered around his quarters, the clothes left carelessly draped over a chair, the wires and droid parts from half-finished projects he'd been so excited to work on only a few weeks ago...none of it seemed to _matter. _He found himself wandering aimlessly, searching for something, anything that he actually cared about.

Finally, it hit him. Anakin went into his bedroom and knelt by his bed, reaching underneath it to pull out a small box. Inside it was his wedding ring. He slipped it onto his finger for the first time since the day he was married, knowing it was the one thing he could never leave behind.

He remained kneeling, lost for anything else to do, until the door chime rang and soft footsteps came up behind him. "Hello there, Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Anakin didn't respond. He wondered with no small amount of bitterness if Obi-Wan had figured out whatever was so important with the Council.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm coming with you."

Anakin's head snapped around, and he scrambled quickly to his feet. Surely he'd misheard; Obi-Wan was _what?_

Apparently, his confusion was evident on his face. "I'm going with you into exile," Obi-Wan repeated drily. "For the time being, at least."

Anakin stared at him, torn between hope and guilt. Obi-Wan was going to leave his life behind to come with him to some planet on the very edges of the galaxy. _Why?! _Then Obi-Wan continued, "The Council feels it would be a good idea if I were, ah, to keep an eye on you for a little while," Now, Anakin understood. They thought he might snap again, that he needed a _babysitter_, and since he was Anakin's former master, Obi-Wan was the unlucky bastard to be stuck with the job.

He turned away from Obi-Wan, unable to look him in the face, blinking rapidly against the sudden stinging in his eyes. Perhaps he should apologize, but how did you say sorry for wrecking the life of a man just by being associated with him?

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Don't feel guilty. Er, not for my situation, at least." As if Anakin needed the reminder that there was so much else for him to feel guilty about. "I volunteered to go; there were a number of factors that made this a good decision. I thought—and the Council agrees—that it might be worth it for me to keep a low profile for a little while, given that public opinion is, well, you know."

Anakin did know. They want to get Obi-Wan out of the public eye because of _him._ Because he and Obi-Wan were-had _been_-a team, and people thought that Obi-Wan should have been able to stop him, or that he was guilty too just because he defended Anakin in court. So now Obi-Wan was being sent away, too, even though it wasn't his fault. And it was all because of Anakin.

No, the reassurance didn't do much to assuage Anakin's guilt; Obi-Wan was too kindhearted to voice blame for the situation aloud even if he did deserve it. First he had let Padme die, and now he was responsible for essentially ruining Obi-Wan's life. Why couldn't he ever protect the people he cared about? Some all-powerful Chosen One he'd turned out to be.

Still, despite the renewed feelings of shame his arrival had brought on, Obi-Wan's familiar presence was comforting, and Anakin found himself breaking out of the grip of his earlier despair. He was still far from _enthusiastic_ about the situation, but he was at least able to summon the energy to join Obi-Wan in packing clothes and sorting through their meager possessions to decide what was worth bringing. It didn't take long; as Jedi, neither of them had many belongings to start with.

After a few minutes, Obi-Wan broke the silence. "Have you thought about where you want to go?"

Anakin shook his head wordlessly. He'd briefly considered Tatooine, but he didn't think he could face those memories at the moment. He just wanted to go...somewhere far away. Somewhere no-one would know who he was; somewhere he could _escape_ from the horrible speeder-wreck his life had become.

Let Obi-Wan choose where they spent their banishment; it didn't matter. Not really. Warm or cold, heavily populated or not, desert or tropical forest, no planet could return to him what he had lost. _Whom _he had lost.

Deep down, the dragon inside Anakin Skywalker whispered to him that there was no escape.


	2. Departure

"Good luck may you have on your journey, young Obi-Wan," Yoda told him. "And may the Force be with you."

"And with you, Master. Masters." Obi-Wan nodded at the group of assorted Council members who had come to see him off. Or, see _them_ off, technically, but Anakin had boarded the ship a good half hour before their departure time and hadn't come out for farewells. Obi-Wan was somewhat grateful for that, and he suspected the other Jedi were as well.

"Keep in touch," Mace Windu reminded him. Obi-Wan had agreed to comming the Council every week or so to check in, supposedly so that he could keep up-to-date on Jedi affairs and the Council could advise him on any problems that came up with Anakin. He half-wondered if it wasn't really because the Council wanted to make sure Anakin hadn't killed him in his sleep, which _he _personally found rather unlikely. But then again, he clearly didn't know his former apprentice as well as he thought he did.

He bowed deeply to the Council, and walked up the ramp, unable to stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder as he left. How long would it be before he saw these people again? _Would_ he ever see them? There had been no decision made on how long Anakin might need a warden.

Anakin was in the cockpit when he arrived, going through all the pre-flight checks. "Everything ready?" Obi-Wan inquired. Anakin nodded, and stood up from the seat. "You don't want to fly?" asked Obi-Wan, surprised, and received only a shake of the head in response.

Somewhat exasperated, Obi-Wan sighed as Anakin left the cabin. He sat down in the pilot's seat. Getting a read on Anakin's emotional state was necessary for him to judge how much he _did_ need to be wary around the young man, and even more so if he wanted to help him. But it was going to be nearly impossible if Anakin kept up this refusal to communicate.

The fact was, Anakin hadn't spoken a single word—as far as anyone knew—since he had found Padme Amidala's dead body in the lower levels of Coruscant. Oh, he'd written out a confession after being arrested, as well as letters of apology to each individual member of the families of his eight innocent victims, but he hadn't actually _said_ anything. And while Anakin was just about as expressive as a person could be in his body language and gestures, not to mention his perpetual inability to fully shield his emotions in the Force, there was simply no way that Obi-Wan was going to be able to get through to him if they couldn't actually discuss what had happened.

He maneuvered the ship into the air, through Coruscant's busy traffic lanes to the outer atmosphere. The planet below him buzzed with the activity of a trillion lives, a far cry from the sparsely habitated planet they were headed towards. Lumencras was a small, temperate planet in the Outer Rim, and even its largest city had a population of just under thirty-thousand. Hopefully, the peaceful atmosphere would let Anakin relax at least to the point where he was able to talk about what he had been through. What he had done.

And yet...was talking truly going to do any good? In the past, though Obi-Wan himself tended to shy away from discussing emotional issues, he'd come to realize that Anakin seemed to need to talk about his feelings in order to work through them. But did he really understand Anakin as well as he'd assumed he had? The person Obi-Wan had thought he known had been a Jedi who was yes, emotional and prone to attachment, but devoted to his calling nonetheless. Who could get angry, but only at those who violated his overly black-and-white view of morality. Who was almost _too_ open about his emotions and beliefs, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

But now, Obi-Wan's best friend, his Padawan, his _partner_ had shown himself to be a killer. Anakin had kept a marriage secret for three years, flagrantly breaking the Code with not a hint of remorse and Obi-Wan never suspected a thing.

He just couldn't reconcile the two images. And what else might Anakin be hiding?

* * *

Anakin sat hunched on his small bunk in the ship's sleeping quarters, arms wrapped around his knees. A few weeks ago—a lifetime away, it seemed—he would have jumped any chance to fly, even for something as straightforward as this. Today, though, he just didn't have the energy.

Padmé had always told him he had too _much_ energy.

He pressed his hands against his eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him every time he let thoughts of his angel creep into his mind. For the past two weeks, he'd at least had the trial and the question of what was to become of him as a distraction from his grief. Now, there was no escaping it. His entire life stretched in front of him, empty and miserable and desolate.

Though Padmé had always been insistent that he not let their relationship interfere with his duty, he'd always secretly imagined that after the war, after his destiny had been fulfilled, he'd be able to be with her openly. To start a family, even. Now, all of that was gone.

There was Obi-Wan, of course, but who knew how long he would be around before the Council decided to recall him? He could be gone in an instant, abandoning Anakin to a lifetime of loneliness in order to fulfill his _duty._ And Anakin was sure that he'd sensed some annoyance when he'd slipped past Obi-Wan on his way out of the cockpit. It was entirely possible—likely, even—that Obi-Wan was here purely out of obligation to the Council, and to diffuse the fire of public anger that Anakin's actions had brought down upon his head.

He lay down on his side, staring at the blank wall in front of him, trying not to think. He was exhausted, eyes heavy even though it was barely midafternoon, but sleep was as elusive as it had been for the past two weeks.

For how long he stayed like that, seeking mental oblivion, he didn't know. Eventually, though, he was jarred back into the harshness of reality by a knock on the door. Rolling over onto his other side so that he could see the door, he watched his former master enter the room.

Obi-Wan walked over to him, pausing a few feet from the bed. He pulled something out of his pocket and offered it to Anakin. "Your comlink," he explained hesitantly. "They made a copy of Padmé's message, so it was no longer needed in evidence, and I thought you might want it back."

Padmé's message. The last words that his love had ever spoken for him. Yes, he wanted it back. Anakin reached out to take the device from Obi-Wan's hand, clutching it in his own.

Obi-Wan looked at him somewhat pityingly. "Anakin, if you want to talk about this..."

Anakin's throat clenched, his chest tight and his eyes suddenly burning. He couldn't talk about it, he just _couldn't._ Rolling back over to face the wall, he curled up on his side with the comlink gripped closely against his chest. From somewhere behind him, he heard Obi-Wan sigh. A few seconds later, the door opened and closed and he was left alone.

He thumbed a button on the comlink without looking at it, and let the sound of Padme's voice flow over him.

_"Anakin. Are you there? It's important; I need to talk to you."_

He'd been asleep. After nearly two months fighting almost nonstop in the Outer Rim, he'd been weary enough to fall asleep in the middle of the day, even three days after his return home.

_"Listen. I've found something out, about Palpatine. I know—I know you trust him, but Anakin, I think he might be involved with the Separatists."_

No one knew how she'd figured it out, not for sure. When they'd searched the Chancellor's office, they'd found a hidden comconsole with evidence of a call to Serenno a few minutes before Padmé had contacted him—one theory held that she'd overheard Palpatine talking to Dooku. But Padmé hadn't lived long enough to explain what she'd discovered.

_"He just left his office. I'm going to look around inside and see if I can find any evidence. I was hoping you would come with me, but I guess you're busy, and I don't know how long he'll be out. Um, I'll call you later to let you know how it goes."_

If he had been sleeping a little less deeply. If he had woken up earlier, in time to go with her. If he'd been brave enough to face his nightmares and forced himself to get more rest during the mission.

_"Anyway, I'll see you later, Anakin. I love you."_

So many ways he could have saved her. But he'd never gotten the chance to return the sentiment. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the tears that threatened to start and never stop if he let them, he was unable to stop himself from hitting replay. Padme's voice washed over him once more, at once a balm and an accusation.

_"Anakin. Are you there? It's important..."_

* * *

Obi-Wan dropped the ship out of hyperspace as soon as it crossed the Republic border. They weren't at their destination, not yet, but he had one quick obligation to fulfill.

It took only a few moments to establish a link to Coruscant, and the shimmering form of Bail Organa soon appeared before him. "Obi-Wan," the man greeted him warmly.

"Hello, Bail," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin and I have passed into non-Republic space."

Bail nodded. "Yes, I can see where the transmission is coming from. I'll let the rest of the Senate know Anakin is fulfilling the terms of his exile."

"Thank you." There was a moment's awkward silence. "How are you doing? Are you recovered?"

Bail shrugged. "I'm fine. Far better than I _could_ have been, I suppose."

That was true. Only luck and quick reflexes had saved Bail from the fate of his fellow Senators

"Sometimes I wonder, though," Bail continued. "If there's anything I could have done differently. Maybe Anakin would have ignored the rest of us if I hadn't started firing at him. God knows it's not as though protecting _Palpatine_ was worth it."

Obi-Wan stared at him. "Bail, you can't blame yourself for what happened; there was _nothing _you could have done. Anakin had already killed Palpatine's secretary just for telling him he'd have to wait until the Chancellor's meeting was over to see him." The security recording of that particular moment had been played more than once at Anakin's trial, until it was burned into Obi-Wan's mind. "He wasn't going to spare anyone who stood in his way."

Bail sighed. "You're right. Survivor's guilt, I suppose, and part of me knows that. Still, I can't stop reliving that afternoon, thinking I should have known something was off. You know Padmé was supposed to be at the meeting? It wasn't like her to miss something like that—I assumed she was home sick."

Obi-Wan did know—he'd heard all this in Bail's testimony at the deposition—but he stayed silent, letting him speak."

"And then Anakin came in," Bail said, his eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance over Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I could tell there was something wrong just by looking at him. I'm not sure how. But when he ignited the lightsaber, I just _knew_ that he was there to hurt someone, not to defend. There was something in his eyes, something broken..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It was foolish to fire at him. My blaster was never going to hurt a Jedi."

"It saved your life," Obi-Wan pointed out. Bail's shots had never come close to harming Anakin, had been deflected back at him easily. But the blaster had had been set on stun, and Bail had only been left injured and unconscious by his own bolts.

The other Senators had met their far more gruesome ends on Anakin's lightsaber, collateral damage in his rampage against Palpatine.

"True," Bail agreed. "By the time I woke up, Anakin had surrendered. And everyone else was...in pieces." He shuddered. "Are you going to be all right out there with him, Obi-Wan?"

"We'll be fine," said Obi-Wan, with more confidence than he felt.

Bail looked dubious. "If you say so," he replied. "Good luck, Obi-Wan. And be _careful._"

"Thank you, my friend."

Obi-Wan cut the transmission and, after setting the coordinates for the next jump, leaned back in his seat. Though it was nice to talk to a friendly face, the harsh reminder of Anakin's deeds was somewhat less welcome.

They were only a few hours from Lumencras, now, and what would he do once they got there? Technically, his only orders from the Council were to watch over Anakin and ensure that he didn't hurt anybody else. And while his first impulse was to try to _help _Anakin, to give him the benefit of the doubt that what had happened in Palpatine's office had been a one-time fluke of grief and not a lasting turn towards the dark, he had to question his own motives.

He had never dreamed Anakin could do what he had done. Was he _biased_? Had his affection towards Anakin blinded him into missing warning signs? Had that affection led him to be too lenient with Anakin's anger and attachments?

Could he have prevented this, if only he'd been a little bit stricter? More importantly, would being more firm prevent it from happening _again_? Obi-Wan wasn't sure he'd be able to bear it if Anakin snapped and killed again, knowing he'd been given a wake-up call and ignored it.

It would almost be easier if he could look at this as a choice between Anakin and his duty, between his attachment and his vows to the Order. But Anakin _was_ his duty, and his duty was to Anakin. For once, the two priorities coincided.

He just didn't have any idea where to start.


	3. Arrival

Though not part of the Republic, Lumencras had received assistance from the Jedi Agricultural Corps in the midst of a famine some decades prior, and the planetary government had been willing enough to help Obi-Wan find a place where he and Anakin could take residence. Well, the willingness may have had something to do with the fact that Obi-Wan was almost entirely certain that the price he'd been given for the small house was far more than it was actually worth. But the pockets of the Jedi Temple were deep, and he'd not had the energy to argue.

Pulling up to the cottage in the groundcar he'd rented after landing in Melioramo, the smallest of the planet's three largest cities—if they could indeed be called that—Obi-Wan was able to look at his purchase for the first time. It was certainly small, and had quite obviously seen better days. Still, Jedi did not care for luxury, and the place was far enough in the outskirts of Melioramo to be peaceful while close enough that going into town if necessary would not be too much of an ordeal.

Yes, it would do. "Well, here we are, then," he announced to Anakin unnecessarily, more to break the silence than anything else. For all that he'd complained about his partner's endless chatter in the past, it was disconcerting to need to be the one filling the air with talk.

He strode up to the front door and pushed it open, Anakin trudging quietly at his heels. He was immediately hit by the smell of dust, and a quick surveyal of the cottage revealed that it had likely not been inhabited for a very long time. A small kitchen, a sitting room, and two bedrooms, it was precisely what they needed and nothing more.

But Jedi did not care for luxury. Returning to the groundcar for their meager belongings, he prepared to face the uncertain future.

* * *

Obi-Wan spent the first few days keeping up on Council reports on the political situation while Anakin hid in his room. Aside from an initial trip into town for food, he quickly found that he had very little to _do_ on Lumencras: the cottage was so small that cleaning it up until it was inhabitable hadn't occupied him for long, and he didn't dare leave Anakin alone, unsure if the young man might be a danger to himself or not. So hard to read him, these days.

So Obi-Wan read about what was going on back home—how they had found a lightsaber hidden in Palpatine's office, confirming his identity as the Sith Lord. How rumors were spreading amongst the public that the weapon had been planted as part of a cover-up, and that Padme's wound had been inflicted by a Jedi. How the Senate had been in contact with Dooku, who was apparently offering peace talks with the Republic now that his master had been killed, but that the Council was highly suspicious that he was up to something. How they were putting as many resources as possible into finding General Grievous, who was apparently determined to cause as much destruction as he could before the war officially ended.

He read up on Lumencras itself. How the planet had been settled by humans millennia before and had existed quietly ever since, with few wars or major natural disasters, which was why they'd been so ill-prepared for the famine when it had come. How the largest problem its inhabitants seemed to face were occasional attacks from the native wolf-cats. How agriculture dominated its economy, and it traded little with other planets nearby.

He scrubbed the cottage from top to bottom until it was not just inhabitable but needlessly immaculate. He cooked food for himself and for Anakin, and then retrieved the younger man's barely-touched plates. He worried.

He meditated, but he could not find peace.

* * *

_Padme stood amongst the wildflowers of a Lake Country meadow, face angled up to look into the sky. She looked radiant in the sunlight, golden rays illuminating her skin and playing in her hair. _

_Truly, she was an angel. Anakin could have stood there and watched her forever, and perhaps he already had. _

_A figure dressed in black came up behind Padme. Anakin opened his mouth to shout a warning, but no sound came out. He began to run towards her._

_Oddly, he didn't seem to be getting any closer, but the dark figure had moved to stand just inches behind her shoulder. Padme, oblivious, smiled sweetly._

_Anakin tried again to scream, and if any noise came out, it was drowned in the humming of the sunlight. A scarlet lightsaber blade sprung into existence in the figure's hand. Running faster and faster, all Anakin seemed to do was end up farther away._

_Padme's smile dropped off her face as the red blade impaled her through the stomach. She glanced down and then her eyes met Anakin's, full of confusion and betrayal. _Why didn't you save me? _they asked. _How could you have let this happen?

_As she exploded into pieces, the dark figure lowered its hood, and Anakin found himself staring into the glowing yellow eyes of his own face. _

_Silently, he screamed._

* * *

Anakin jerked awake, curling himself around his pillow to muffle the rest of his cry. Sitting up shakily, his sweat-dampened sleep clothes clinging to his skin, he let his face fall into his hands. He tried to get his rapid breathing under control and failed, feeling as though there were a tight band compressing his chest. _Padme, oh Padme. _His fingers curled into his hair, twisting and tugging. _My fault, my fault. _

He froze when the door slid open and quiet footsteps padded into the room. In the five days since they had arrived, this was the first time that his nightly terrors had woken Obi-Wan up. The older man hesitated when he reached the side of the bed, and Anakin wasn't surprised. If this had been ten years ago—hell, _five_ years ago—back when his frequent nightmares had been merely from his own imagination, he could have expected some form of comfort. A gentle inquiry into what the dream had been about. A warm hand on his shoulder. A reassurance that it would pass. An offer to meditate with him, which he'd eventually come to realize was just code for an offer to sit with him until he fell back asleep.

But now the dreams were memories, and would _pass in time_ no more than his visions about his mother had. Anakin was no longer a child—he had gotten himself into this situation, and both he and Obi-Wan knew it. What comfort could there be in that?

Finally, Obi-Wan spoke. "Are you _ever_ going to talk about it?" he asked, and Anakin was sure he wasn't referring to the dream. He shook his head, not even certain that the dim light from the hallway was enough for Obi-Wan to see the gesture. Padme was dead. What was there to talk about?

Obi-Wan sighed-it seemed to Anakin like he'd been doing that a lot, lately. "I'll be here when you're ready," he said shortly, and left the room.

Anakin lay back down on his bed. He was still awake when the dawn came.

* * *

Two days later, Obi-Wan found himself sitting in a grassy patch outside the small house late in the evening. He'd originally come out to see if the change of scenery would make it easier to meditate; now, though, he simply breathed in the fresh air and took in the quiet hum of life around him. Though they were quite isolated from any human form of life, he could sense various animals in the woodlands nearby. It was quiet, peaceful.

When the door opened and Anakin walked out, Obi-Wan was tempted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming: he was quite sure the younger man hadn't left his room except to use the refresher in all the time since they'd arrived. Barefoot, Anakin shuffled over to him and dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged a few feet away.

For a moment, they sat in silence. Obi-Wan looked at Anakin; Anakin, silhouetted in the cold moonlight, looked off into the distance.

"This would be easier if you would talk to me, you know," Obi-Wan told him. Anakin lowered his gaze to the ground and remained silent. "I only want to help." It was true, the decision only crystallizing as he voiced it aloud. It has been _not_ connecting with Anakin, _not_ knowing what was going on with him that had led them to this point, and only by actively engaging with him could Obi-Wan hope to prevent such a thing from happening again.

But Anakin, it seemed, was not willing to cooperate with his epiphany. Rather than respond, he simply wrapped his arms around his knees and stared up at the stars.

Obi-Wan, too, glanced up at the unfamiliar constellations. "I remember when you used to be determined to visit all of them," he commented. He also remembered what he'd said the first time his charge had voiced this ambition: _"There are billions and billions of systems in the galaxy, my young Padawan. Far too many for any person to visit in one lifetime."_ And Anakin's reply: _"I know it's impossible, Master. That doesn't mean I can't try." _Despite anything Master Yoda might have taught about the value of _trying_, Obi-Wan had been unable to contradict the notion, and from then on he'd kept a list of all the planets he and Anakin visited so he could answer the frequent inquiries of _how many have I been to now?_

It occurred to him that he couldn't remember how old Anakin had been when those questions had stopped. "I kept the list, you know," he said aloud. "For as long as you were my apprentice." Had updated it faithfully after every mission long after Anakin's persistent requests had ceased. "It's still in my room on Coruscant, I think."

Anakin shifted slightly toward him, turning his face away from the night sky until they were facing. He was looking at Obi-Wan with an inscrutable expression, eyes glinting in the darkness. After a moment, he leaned forward, reached out with one hand and rested the tips of his fingers on the sleeve of Obi-Wan's robe.

For reasons Obi-Wan couldn't quite explain, an odd shiver ran through him at the light touch, and he nearly pulled away. Then reality reasserted itself and he remembered that this was the first gesture of contact with _anyone_ that Anakin had made in more than three weeks. It wasn't much, but it was certainly better than nothing. Internally shaking off his own queer reaction, and mindful not to make any sudden movements, he carefully lifted his other arm to cover Anakin's hand with his own.

For how long they sat like that, he didn't know. When Anakin rose abruptly and headed back into the cottage—he had disappeared back into his own room again by the time Obi-Wan himself entered—Obi-Wan was left with a peculiar pang of regret.

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night.

* * *

The next morning, Obi-Wan decided to take a trip into Melioramo. They were running low on food and other supplies, and while it would probably be _possible_ to subsist on nothing more than the frozen mealpacks and dried cereal that they still had left for a few days longer, he would have to go at some point and to be honest, he was starting to get a little bit stir-crazy.

He poked a head into Anakin's room to ask if he wanted to come along and was unsurprised, if slightly disappointed, when he received only a shake of the head in reply. Whatever had happened the night before, whatever had given the younger man the energy to finally surface from his isolation for however brief a moment, seemed to have worn off, and Anakin had withdrawn into himself once more.

"I should be back in a few hours," Obi-Wan told him when it was clear he wasn't going to emerge again. Anakin only nodded.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Obi-Wan took his leave.

* * *

It took less than an hour from the time Obi-Wan left for Anakin to start feeling restless. In theory, he knew, there should be no difference between sitting in his room when Obi-Wan was in the house and sitting there when he wasn't, and yet there was. He couldn't sense Obi-Wan's presence, soothing even from another room. More than that, just _knowing_ he was alone was...discomfiting.

He wandered out of his room, taking a good look around the place for the first time since he'd arrived. It was easier now that Obi-Wan was away, despite the loneliness, because he didn't have to hide. Didn't have to avoid the piercing gaze and impassive face that could be hiding either judgment or gentleness. Didn't have to brush off imploring requests that he _talk_, because he couldn't. Talking about anything would inevitably lead to talking about Padme, and he wasn't sure he could face having that discussion. It would lead to talking about what he'd done in Palpatine's office, and more importantly, why he'd done it. And he didn't know. He just didn't.

Killing Palpatine, that had been a straightforward act of revenge, and not one he regretted. But killing the others on his way to Palpatine, the secretary and the Senators...it had been like killing the littlest of the Tusken children. He had just been so _angry_ and they had been right there in front of him; he had felt like glass was shattering behind his eyes and he had to make the universe feel the force of his agony.

But he didn't know how to explain that to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan didn't get that sort of angry; he was stable and sane and had been foolish enough to assume that Anakin could be trusted. So not talking to him was just better for both of them.

His examination didn't take long. Although he'd spent the past week almost constantly in a single room, and the two weeks before that in a cell that hadn't been self-imposed, he was suddenly starting to feel like the cottage was too small. Too confining. Its pristine walls—had they been that clean when they'd gotten here?—were beginning to close in on him now that he was alone.

A few quick steps took him out of the door to the grass area where he'd sat with Obi-Wan last night. And what he'd felt _then_ was still just confusing, so he moved on, over towards a trail that headed into the trees. He didn't know where it went, because he hadn't been paying enough attention on the ride here to notice whether the town was in that direction or not. It didn't matter, though, because the urge to _move_ and get away was beginning to overwhelm him.

He began to walk along it, and then broke out into a jog, and then into a run. Being active had always helped him escape from the pressure of his own mind—he had no droids to fix or lightsaber to spar with now, though, so instead he sprinted along the unkempt trail with no particular destination in mind.

But no matter how fast he ran, the pounding of his feet against the dirt couldn't seem to drown out the noise in his own head. Wind rustled the leaves of the trees, whispering to him as he fled past them. _Anakin. Are you there? It's important...I guess you're busy...I'll see you later, Anakin...I love you...I truly, deeply love you...I kept the list, you know...The boy is _dangerous..._You're not all-powerful, Ani…_

The world around him began to blur as his eyes and throat began to sting; he couldn't see, he couldn't _breathe_ for the sobs that were once again making their way out of him as he ran and ran and _ran._

He tripped. Crashing to the ground a few feet in front of the tree root protruding onto the path that he'd failed to notice, Anakin couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't some sort of sign from the Force meant to summarize how his life was going lately. _Nice balance, Chosen One, _he sneered internally as he picked himself up, angrily wiping away his own tears.

It was only as he brushed himself off that he noticed...something. A tickling in the back of his mind, a warning. Closing his eyes, he opened himself to the Force. Now that he was trying, he could sense three presences: slightly wary, hostile, definitely non-sentient. Probably the wolf-cats that Obi-Wan had warned him about earlier in the week, he surmised. He could probably influence their minds pretty easily to get them to leave him alone if he had to.

As the presences drew closer to him, another thought wormed its way into his head. He could get them to leave him alone, or he could just...not.

No one would know, if he didn't try to defend himself. Obi-Wan wouldn't have to feel guilty about not stopping him, as he certainly would if Anakin made any more active attempt on his own life. A tragic accident, that's all it would look like, except maybe even not so tragic.

And then he'd be with Padme. It was what he'd wanted, what he'd _expected_, after his trial, wasn't it? He'd been spared execution because of his 'mental state,' but after the people he'd killed, wouldn't this just be what he deserved? He'd let Padme die; he'd let his mom die; he'd repaid all Obi-Wan's kindness by hurting him.

The galaxy and the people in it would be better off without him. Obi-Wan could go back to his life and his friends on Coruscant. No one would know what he'd done.

But even if Obi-Wan didn't know he'd chosen it, would his death just cause even more pain?

Anakin hesitated, torn. The first wolf-cat appeared and began slinking towards him, apparently having decided he looked like good prey. He tensed, balled his hands into his robes, forced himself not to respond. The other two appeared behind it and begin to circle in from either side.

Frozen, unable to make himself choose, Anakin stood rooted to the spot. _Fight back. Let them attack. Fight back. Let them have their prey. Fight back…_

And then the first one lunged, and the decision was made as his survival instincts kicked in and he threw a hand up in front of him without thinking. The wolf-cat was thrown into the tree behind it with a sickening _thwack_ and Anakin backed up enough that he could see the other two as they began to close in.

Adrenaline pulsed through him—was he doing the right thing?—but then a second one was leaping forward and he raised his hand to grip it by the neck without making contact, raising it into the air as it struggled. His fingers tightened and the wolf-cat went limp _the Senator went limp and dropped to the floor as Anakin released him, but there were still so many in his way and all of them were here to talk to the person who'd killed his beloved and shattered his galaxy. He lashed out with his lightsaber and lopped off the head of Garm Bel Iblis; he managed to shove the blade into and through Palpatine's surprised-looking face, but it wasn't enough, she was still dead, he was still breaking. He rounded on Nee Alavar, the last Senator standing, and cut her in half. Panting, he stood in the middle of the room and surveyed the carnage, furious that none of it had helped. _

_As the rage drained out of him, he sank onto the floor of the office. Padme was dead. Padme was dead, and now he was _surrounded_ by death just like he always had been and always would be. It was his fault, all his fault-_

"Anakin. Look at me. Anakin, are you all right?"

Anakin slowly became aware of himself. Someone was shaking him, saying his name in a concerned voice. Obi-Wan. Disoriented, he blinked to find himself back in the woods on Lumencras, curled onto his side on the forest floor.

"-all my fault, all my fault, all my fault-" Was that himself muttering, sobbing? He couldn't seem to stop.

As Obi-Wan helped him into a sitting position, he noticed the gashes on his own arms and chest. Something on his face stung; when he raised a hand to touch it, it came away scarlet.

Glancing around, he flinched at the sight of a wolf-cat cut neatly in half less than a meter away from him. The other two, the ones he'd killed, were laying further away.

"It was attacking you when I came looking," Obi-Wan said, clipping his lightsaber back onto his belt and gripping Anakin's shaking shoulders with both hands. "You—you weren't fighting back."

He'd been too far out of it, drowning in his own memories, to even notice being attacked. But the conclusion Obi-Wan had presumably jumped to wasn't exactly wrong, either. "It was all my _fault_," he repeated by way of explanation, and it was only after the choked words had left his mouth that he realized he had said them aloud. "I should have saved her."

"You can't save everyone, Anakin." Face clouded with worry, Obi-Wan grasped his hand and pulled him to his feet. "There was nothing you could have done. You made mistakes, and you were responsible for the deaths of innocents, but _not _Padme. Palpatine fooled all of us; there was no way for you to know what was going to happen."

"I still should have...should have done something," Anakin whispered hoarsely. _"Anything._"

Obi-Wan shook his head. He pulled Anakin closer, rubbing circles into his back as he trembled. "Let's get you back," he said eventually. "We need to put bacta on those cuts; you don't need any more scars."

Anakin wasn't entirely sure he agreed with that statement, but he leaned on Obi-Wan's shoulder and let the older man lead him back along the trail.

Together, they made their way home.


End file.
